


Prodigal

by cardinalstar



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Compulsive Behavior, Dante Tries to be a Good Brother, Gen, Jealousy, Pre-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Younger characters, he tries really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalstar/pseuds/cardinalstar
Summary: Being an older brother is never easy.  BeingCisco Ramon'solder brother, Dante finds, is distinctly challenging.He wishes he didn't see siblinghood as a competition, but when he's been struggling to stay ahead his entire life, it's hard to do anything else.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xerospark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerospark/gifts).



> I recently found this fic among the WIPs on my hard drive and, after re-reading it, decided that I liked it more than I had originally remembered. It's different from my usual stuff, but it drew on the positive and negative of sibling relationships in a way that I had never tried writing about before, and the results really resonated with me. Writing Dante's POV was an interesting challenge since we'd seen so little of him on the show (I wrote this in mid-2016 and 1 x 16 was the only episode with him in it at that point), but I enjoyed the opportunity to write from a new perspective and to theorize a bit about what CW!Dante and Cisco's childhoods might have been like. 
> 
> The title, "Prodigal," is a reference to the parable of the prodigal son. I thought that the world 'prodigal' came from the same root as the word for prodigy and that it was the adjective form, but when I did some research on what it actually meant, I discovered that it actually refers to the reckless use of resources and "wasteful extravagance." Since this fic revolves around Dante's relationship with music almost as much as his relationship with his brother, I thought it was a fitting title.
> 
> I'm dedicating this fic to my beta, xerospark, because this fic spawned from a conversation that we had about platonic relationships and how they can shape our lives even more meaningfully than romantic ones. I was spurred to try writing about siblings, which I had never done before! It's also almost her birthday so bonus giftfic for you (I promise I'll write you a fluffy fic to make up for all this Sadness).

* * *

The first time he sees his baby brother, Dante is four years old. 

He’s never been to a hospital before.  Wide-eyed, he takes in the bustling nurses in their uniforms, the bright, cheerful art that looks out of place on the sterile white walls.  There is a strange scent in the air that burns Dante’s nose, and he can’t place it for the life of him.  “Dad, what’s that funny smell?” he asks, tugging on his father’s pant leg. 

His dad glances down and gives Dante a small smile.  “It’s the antiseptic, son,” he explains.  “It keeps the hospital clean, so that the mothers and babies don’t get sick.” 

“Babies can get sick?”  Dante is suddenly alarmed.  He’d never had anything to do with babies, never thought about the fact that they might be fragile.  “Will my brother get sick?” 

“ _Francisco_ will be fine,” his father says, ruffling Dante’s hair fondly.  “But I’m glad to see you looking out for your little brother.” 

When they enter the hospital room, Dante’s eyes are drawn to his mother.  She’s laying on an uncomfortable-looking bed, wearing a white gown and a tired, but happy, smile.  There’s something in her arms, wrapped in a little blue blanket, and Dante realizes with a jolt that he’s looking at his brother. 

“Hola, mijo,” Dante’s mother says, her eyes soft.  “Do you want to meet Francisco?” 

Dante nods and approaches the hospital bed. 

His first thought, when he sees the tiny person wrapped in the blanket, is that _Francisco_ is much too long a name for so small a person.  Maybe he’d grow into it with time, but right now the thought of calling his brother Francisco makes Dante giggle.  Cisco is wrinkly and strange, but also kind of cute.  His head is topped with a shock of wispy dark hair and his brown eyes are already open.  As Dante smiles tentatively, the baby’s eyes lock on his face and his tiny forehead furrows.  “He looks like he’s angry,” Dante says, perplexed. 

“He’s trying to figure out who you are,” his mother explained.  “You may be his brother, but this is the first time Francisco has seen you.” 

It’s a strange feeling, being examined by a baby, but the idea that Cisco is thinking about him makes this tiny person seem more human, and takes some of the nervousness out of Dante’s chest.  “Hey, Cisco,” he says softly, leaning over to observe his brother’s face more closely. 

Cisco coos – then swings his arm out and smacks his brother’s nose. 

Dante gasps, more from surprise than from pain, although Cisco is also stronger than he was expecting a baby to be.  “He hit me!” 

His parents are both laughing.  “He likes you,” his mother says, her eyes crinkling.  “He’s trying to touch your face, but his motor skills aren’t quite up to the task yet!  Would you like to hold him?” 

“Maybe later,” Dante hedges, because he’s even less sure what to do with Cisco now.  How do you handle a baby, when they’re capable of smacking your nose but also get sick so easily that the doctors have to clean the whole hospital to prevent it?  

A few days later, Dante’s parents are able to bring Cisco home from the hospital.  The entire extended family gathers to meet the newest Ramon, and it’s funny watching Cisco’s eyes dart from one new face to another, the bewilderment clear in his expression as he tries to determine why all the people in the house are making such a big fuss over him.  Dante finds himself enjoying the celebration, and for a few hours, having a new brother is simple. 

But when the crowd disperses, Cisco is still there.  Dante quickly learns that having a new baby brings changes to the house.  Cisco cries at all hours of the night, forcing Dante’s parents out of bed to soothe him until eventually his dad decides that he’s old enough to cry it out.  Dante protests that Cisco is keeping him awake too, and he has kindergarten starting next month to worry about, and how will he be able to go to school without enough sleep? 

His brother does start sleeping through the night, eventually.  Dante swears that Cisco does nothing _but_ sleep.  His mother assures him that it’s perfectly normal, that Dante did the same thing when he was a baby, but it still bothers him for reasons that he can never quite grasp. 

Dante finds himself spending more time alone as his parents are forced to devote more of their time and attention to Cisco.  At first he doesn’t understand why they always seem so busy; then he interrupts his mom nursing one time too many and his father sits him down for a talk.  Dante becomes abruptly conscious of _guilt_ , and has no idea how to handle the nagging feeling that he causes trouble with the baby and makes things harder for his parents. 

To distract himself and fill his free time, he finds himself turning to music.  His parents thought that classical music was important, and Dante wasn’t in any position to question them.  He liked the piano fine and found that music came easily to him, but he’d never been a particularly devoted student until Cisco was born.  Now, he dedicates all his attention to his practice, and his skills improve so rapidly that his teacher delivers a glowing report to his parents.  “Your son is a prodigy,” the man reports, and that’s the first time Dante hears that word – _prodigy_ – and sees the way his parents’ eyes light up. 

To be a prodigy means to be special, to be important, and it’s been so long since Dante felt like he could do _anything_ right.  Now when he plays it’s like he can’t stop; he throws himself into new music, harder music, and revels as the introductory-level books fall beneath his talented fingers.  When he moves onto the second-level work under his teacher’s delighted eye, he feels a glow of accomplishment unlike anything he could remember. 

He’s working his way steadily through Beethoven’s _Fur Elise_ one evening when his father pushes the door to the study open.  “Dante, I’m pleased that you are working so hard at your music, but we’re trying to put Francisco to bed.  Your mother asked me to tell you to play more quietly.” 

Dante’s hands still in surprise.  He looks at the clock; it’s after seven.  He had no idea that he had been playing for so long.  “Of course, dad, sorry.”  He glances over at the door as his father starts to leave.  “Do you like the song?” 

“Hm?”  His father pauses.  “It’s nice, Dante, yes.  Just keep it down when you’re practicing, alright?”

He smiles briefly before closing the door behind him, and Dante places his hands back on the keys.  He tries to recapture the ease of before, but when he plays it feels like there’s something weighing his fingers down. 

* * *

When Cisco turns five years old, their parents sign him up for piano lessons. 

Dante is pleased at first.  It’s cute, watching his baby brother fumble his way through the early scales, mastering C Major and beginning to pick his way through F and D. When Dante hears Cisco at the piano playing simple songs, it doesn’t bother him that his brother’s lessons are cutting into his own practice time.  Seeing Cisco happy and enjoying music is worth it. 

Cisco develops a whole new level of respect for Dante as well.  He’s always been interested in hearing Dante play, but when Cisco listens now, his face is lit with a different kind of appreciation – the kind born from comprehension.  Dante can’t help but feel a warm glow at the sight of the pleased envy on his brother’s face.  After a few months of lessons, Cisco now understands that Dante’s skill isn’t something he was just born with – he’s had to work hard to hone his talent. 

It’s nice, having his scary-smart kid brother be so impressed with what Dante can do.  And if Dante takes some guilty pleasure in his own prodigy, he tells himself that music is _his_ thing, has always been his thing, and that while Cisco may be a quick study, he’s not on Dante’s level.  And that’s okay – Cisco has other talents to make up for the fact that he’ll never be able to play quite as well as his older brother.  The piano can be something they share comfortably, and Dante can rest secure in the knowledge that here, at least, he will never be surpassed. 

But while they may share some common interests now, Cisco is still Cisco.  And Dante supposes that he shouldn’t really be surprised when his brother messes up. 

Dante is in the kitchen working on homework when there is a tremendous crash from the study.  At the same time, Cisco screams. 

Dante’s blood turns to ice in his veins.  He runs to the study, pausing only to yell up the stairs for his parents. 

As he bursts into the room, he realizes that if Cisco really is hurt, he has no idea what to do.  He’s been learning about the human body in class, but he can’t even remember how many bones a person has, let alone any sort of first-aid.  But Cisco’s his brother – he should be able to do _something._

But the sight that greets him causes Dante’s overprotectiveness to stick in his throat. 

Cisco is hanging from the side of the piano, half of his torso pressed against the internal wires, his feet scrabbling against the paneling.  The piano stool is laying on its side beneath him. 

As Dante stares at his little brother in horror, his parents burst into the room.  “Francisco Ramon!” their father yells.  “What are you doing inside Dante’s piano?” 

“I’m stuck!” Cisco wails.  “I was trying to look at the hammers but the stool fell down!” 

Dante watches as his father strides across the room and plucks Cisco off of the piano, handing him to their mother before inspecting the frame for any signs of damage.  “It’s fine, Dante, nothing’s broken,” he says, and Dante lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.  “Are you alright, Cisco?” their dad says, kneeling down to look him in the face.

“I think so?” Cisco sniffles.  “My hand hurts a little.” 

“It should pass,” their father says gruffly.  “Now look at me.” 

Cisco did, faint tear tracks still showing on his face. 

“I never want to see this kind of… behavior from you again,” his father rumbles, and Dante’s breath catches in his throat.  “The piano isn’t one of your toys.  It’s not for you to take apart.  You need to be more respectful of other people’s things.  Do you understand?”

Cisco’s eyes are wide.  “Yes,” he breathes. 

“Good,” their father says.  Then their parents walk away, and Dante is left alone with his little brother. 

Cisco cringes when Dante walks over to him.  “I’m sorry, Dante,” he sniffles.  “I didn’t mean to – I just wanted to find out how the keys work.” 

Even though Dante knows he should hug his brother and let it go, he can’t help the cold knot of fear curling its way through his stomach.  Cisco is only five, but Dante is old enough to understand the value of money, and to realize that his family doesn’t have much of it.  This piano is the only one that Dante will get, and it’s so old he’s not sure they’d be able to fix it if anything had broken. 

He has no idea what he’d do without his music, not sure who he’d be.  He can’t risk Cisco taking it away from him. 

“You really could have messed this up,” Dante says, and notes with surprise how much he sounds like his father.  “You’ve got brains, _mija_.  Next time, try and use them.” 

He turns and leaves the study, forcing himself to ignore the way that Cisco remains frozen on the floor, clutching his wrist. 

When Cisco quits piano, Dante makes a token protest but is silenced by his little brother’s penetrating stare. 

* * *

Dante dreads the day that Cisco enters kindergarten.  He’s in fifth grade, and has been in school long enough to know that other kids, especially the younger ones, can be cruel.  He himself has been lucky.  He knows how to keep his head down when necessary, and dazzle others when the opportunity arises.  Dante’s got friends, friends _he_ picked, and the teachers like him. 

But Cisco’s never been able to hide.  Dante’s little brother is open and utterly without guile.  He’s unable to pretend to be anything other than what he is – a brilliant goofball with a bleeding heart. 

Dante resolves, the first time he sees his brother get tripped in the cafeteria, to ask their father to show Cisco how to throw a punch.  He can’t intervene every time someone gives Cisco a hard time, but at least Cisco will be able to take up for himself.  His knuckles tighten on his lunchbox as he finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that Cisco would just _grow._ If he looked a little more intimidating, the bullies might just leave him alone. 

Maybe, if Dante plays his cards right, defending Cisco won’t amount to social suicide.  Nobody ever reacts well to the idea of a _pendejo_ who won’t even take up for his own brother. 

To his relief, Dante’s logic proves sound – when he punches Tom Scopano in the stomach for shoving Cisco into a puddle, all three of them get sent to the office.  The other kids stare, but there’s nothing disapproving in their expressions.

Dante’s decision to defend Cisco has other benefits as well.  After the inevitable lecture from their parents, Dante’s father pulls him aside.  “I’m proud of you for taking up for your brother,” he says, and Dante feels a warm swell in his chest.  “I know he doesn’t make it easy.” 

“He doesn’t,” Dante chuckles, because it’s true.  “But I can’t take up for him all the time.  Papa, he needs to learn to fight.” 

His father agrees, but he grimaces at the thought.  So does Dante.  Cisco’s hand-eye coordination isn’t the best; teaching him to throw a punch will be an exercise in patience.  Dante feels a brief twinge of resentment as he realizes that he’s cashing in his father’s praise to help his brother, and resolves to have a word with Cisco about taking these lessons seriously.  He can’t fight Cisco’s battles for him all the time. 

Cisco never becomes particularly adept at fighting, but to Dante’s relief the worst of the bullying seems to abate as the school year progresses.  He supposes that, in a way, Cisco’s brilliance is just as responsible for fixing the problem as it is for causing it in the first place.  It’s another thing that sets him and Dante apart – Dante’s musicality is a gift that people enjoy.  It’s opened doors for him, brought people into his life.  Cisco’s knack for math and fondness for weird science trivia does the opposite; after talking to him for a few minutes, it’s always painfully obvious that he’s different. 

After Dante takes up for him on the playground a few times, the majority of the punching and tripping comes to a stop.  Then the teasing starts, but Cisco proves to be weirdly immune to verbal harassment.  Snide comments and nerd jokes roll off his shoulders – it’s like Cisco takes their comments entirely at face value, has no idea that they’re intended to be cruel.  Nothing fazes him, and eventually the other kids give up.  They give him a wide berth, and if it’s a lonely existence, at least it’s relatively free from harassment. 

Trouble flares up now and again, but in his own way, Cisco is able to handle it. 

Dante is looking over his sheet music for his lesson that afternoon when he hears shouting coming from the direction of the younger kids’ playground.  He looks up and sees his brother, backed up against the wall of the schoolhouse with a bigger fourth-grader looming over him.  Dante vaguely recognizes the kid, a newcomer who transferred in at the beginning of the semester. 

He sighs to himself, resigned, before packing up his music and heading over to help his brother.  He’s probably going to get sent to the office for this. 

“Hey!” he yells, and Cisco and the new boy both jump.  “That’s my brother you’re messing with.  Back off.” 

“You gonna make me?” the new kid sneers.  He might be younger than Dante, but he’s just as big, and he looks eager for a fight.  His back is completely turned to Cisco; he’s forgotten about Dante’s little brother entirely. 

Cisco’s eyes widen as the new boy raises his fists.  Before Dante can process the idiocy of what his brother is doing, Cisco’s tiny sneakered foot slams into the back of the boys knee once, twice, three times and he drives a punch into the boy’s hip. 

Dante’s not sure which surprises him more – the sight of Cisco actually throwing a punch, or the fact that the other boy goes down in the grass with a yelp. 

“Cool,” Cisco breathes.  “It worked.” 

Dante forces himself not to gape, and instead addresses the fourth-grader on the ground.  “Hey, you.  Get up.  And unless you want me to tell everyone that you got your ass kicked by a kindergartener, you leave Cisco alone.” 

The boy nods hurriedly and staggers to his feet before disappearing around the corner of the building. 

Dante returns his attention to his younger brother, who is scuffing his feet in embarrassed delight.  “How did you do that?” he asks. 

“I listened to dad like you told me to, I promise,” Cisco stammers, and oh boy Dante can already tell that this is going to be a good one.  “But the stuff he was telling me didn’t make sense.  I went and read some things.  The human body is like a machine – all the pieces have to work together, and little things can be important.  So if you take out the right part of the body, even big guys will go down.” 

Dante fights to keep his jaw from dropping, because he’s got to look cool in front of his brother even when he pulls ridiculous stunts like this.  Honestly, Dante doesn’t even know why he’s surprised, except – “How did you learn this stuff?  This sounds like… martial arts or something.” 

“I was actually thinking about spy movies,” Cisco admits with a frown.  “I couldn’t find anything useful in the library on fighting.  But someone pushed me over the balance beam a few days ago and I noticed that as soon as something hit the back of my knees, they folded up and I fell down.  It’s physics.” 

“That’s… something,” Dante says, because he’s lost the thread of the conversation entirely and his six-year-old brother is talking about physics like they’re an everyday thing, like everyone understands science the way he does and uses it to take down hulking playground bullies. 

Dante becomes abruptly conscious of the folder of sheet music tucked under his arm.  Music would have been useless in a fight, he already knows that.  But Cisco’s weird interests, they didn’t just help him finish his homework in record time.  They’d helped him with something else. 

Word of Cisco’s unexpected fighting prowess must end up spreading, because Dante never has to break up a fight involving his brother again.  It’s a relief, because after that day, Dante’s not sure if he could make himself interfere.  Not sure if he would want to try. 

* * *

Middle school is amazing for Dante.  The coursework is more challenging than he’s used to, but he manages to do well with a bit of extra work.  The social dynamic is different, but Dante has the people skills to get by.  And his musical talent has plenty of opportunities to shine.  They have actual classes for music here, not the once-weekly elective periods he had to suffer through in elementary school.  Dante’s leaps ahead of the other piano students, but it means he gets extra time to practice. 

He finds himself involved with the school orchestra, and is pretty sure that they made a special spot for him because piano isn’t part of the normal orchestral lineup.  But his parents are proud, his classmates are accepting – if a bit jealous sometimes – and he himself couldn’t be happier with the arrangement. 

His time with the orchestra leads to the highlight of Dante’s life so far – performing with his entire class at Carnegie Hall. 

When the middle school receives the invitation, Dante is blown away.  He knows they’ve been performing well at regional competitions, and a few recordings of them have even started to circulate.  But Carnegie Hall’s Young Musicians Concert is prestigious, and for the whole class to be invited is almost unprecedented. 

Their school district pulls out all the stops – they’re provided with comfortable charter buses, nice hotel rooms, and an ice cream sundae party after the concert itself.  Dante’s parents are among the chaperones, and since he has school while the concert is happening, Cisco has to stay with their grandparents back in Central City.  Dante wishes his brother were here to see him playing at Carnegie Hall, but it’s nice having his parents all to himself for a few days.  And the piano he gets to play for the concert is the most beautiful he has ever seen.  When he is able to sneak a minute to himself alone with the instrument, he plays the opening chords of _Fur Elise_ for the sake of nostalgia and the rich, rippling tone of the baby grand nearly takes his breath away. 

So middle school, to Dante, is magical, and it’s a tragedy when it comes time for him to leave the eighth grade behind. 

But when it’s Cisco’s turn, things are different.  Dante is baffled by the change he sees in his younger brother.  Cisco has always been a voracious student, almost disturbingly eager for knowledge, and the thought of anything shaking his brother’s love for learning is as laughable as Dante losing his passion for music.  And yet the signs are there.  Cisco stops babbling about new lessons in science and math.  Dante sneaks a look at his report card and sees that while his brother has nothing but A’s – as usual – the teachers have all commented on his lack of participation in class. 

Dante doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s worried.  Cisco got used to the cold dismissal of his elementary school peers, but middle school bullying is far more insidious and cruel.  Anything that can keep his brother from opening his mouth in the middle of a classroom spells trouble. 

“What’s with you, Cisquito?” he says one day when he walks into the kitchen and sees his brother staring morosely at his math textbook.  “I thought you loved this stuff.” 

“It’s boring!” Cisco exclaims, slamming his hand down on the book.  “I know this stuff.  I could solve systems of equations in my _sleep.”_   Dante realizes, sheepishly, that his brother is probably right – but if he’s said as much around school, Dante has a pretty good idea of what the bullying is about.  “It’s pointless,” Cisco says, shaking his head in a way that makes his overly-long hair flop back and forth with the motion.  “I’m not learning anything anymore and I have no idea what to do.” 

He looks so forlorn and scared that Dante takes pity on him.  “When I ran out of music in my books I just went up to the next level,” he says.  “Why can’t you do that?” 

“Because they only teach us so much at a time!” Cisco sighs.  “It’s not like I could-” He falls silent, a grin slowly spreading across his face.  “Wait a second, I totally could.  I’ll just teach myself!”

Cisco’s appetite for learning soon returns full-force, and Dante’s brother becomes a fixture at the kitchen table.  His working space is a haphazard collection of textbooks, binders, and worksheets, stacked together in a random order that Cisco understands but that drives their mother crazy.  Cisco dutifully relocates the stacks to his room as he finishes with them, and before long Dante can keep track of the hours by his brother’s regular footfalls as he climbs the stairs, retrieves his materials for the next subject, then returns. 

“Hey Dante,” Cisco calls to him one afternoon when he’s in the kitchen making a sandwich.  “Do you still have that copy of _Fahrenheit 451_?  It’s on my reading list but the school library was out.” 

Dante shakes his head.  “I had to give my copy back to the school.”  Then he pauses.  “What do you need it for, anyway?  That was one of my eighth grade books.” 

“I wanted to get through half of it tonight.  It’s still on the reading list,” Cisco says, and Dante nearly drops the mustard. 

“Cisquito, are you reading the _eighth grade_ list?” 

“Yes?” his brother says, eyeing him in puzzlement.  “I don’t know why they break it up by grade, the reading really isn’t any harder.” 

“That’s not the point!”  Dante waves the mustard for emphasis.  “I thought you were reading the seventh grade list.” 

“I finished it,” Cisco replies, and Dante sets the mustard on the counter and takes his sandwich before fleeing the kitchen. 

“I’m telling you, it’s crazy,” Dante says to his friends at school the next day.  “He just… _absorbs_ this stuff, like it’s by osmosis or something.  They’re talking about bumping him up.”  His mind is still reeling – if he passes the placement exams, Cisco will be a freshman in high school next year. 

His friend Amanda shakes her head slowly.  “Damn, Dante.  I knew your little brother was smart, but this is unbelievable.  Is it weird that I’m jealous?” 

Dante stares, but she seems to be sincere.  “Jealous of what?” he says, trying to laugh it off.  “Of the fact that he’s gonna be the youngest kid in the entire school on top of being a complete science geek?” 

“Well no, not that part,” says Amanda with a wry smile.  “But it would be nice to have more of those book smarts.  I love the violin, but playing an instrument won’t help me get a job.” 

Their friends murmur in agreement, and Dante feels cold fingers trail down his spine.  “But extracurriculars are important for college.  And what we do in college will matter way more than high school.” 

“Of course,” Amanda sighs.  “But they like STEM kids at the big universities.  It’s not that I mind working hard, but your brother’s lucky – the things he loves will help him out in the long run.” 

That’s been Cisco’s advantage all along, Dante realizes when he goes home and sees the results of his brother’s placement exam sitting on the counter.  Science and math aren’t just things he’s good at – he actually enjoys them, as much as Dante enjoys his music.  Maybe more.  Because lately his throat has been closing at every missed note, hands stuttering over scales, pulled out of the rhythm at the thought of his genius brother toiling away in the kitchen. 

One day, they’ll both run up against the limits of their talents.  One day, _prodigy_ won’t be enough.  Dante doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s the first to falter.  He can’t be. 

Dante makes it through his final exams on coffee and willpower, and is so exhausted by the end of the last one that he wants to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.  Yet another pinch of envy twists his stomach when he shoulders the front door open and sees his brother’s recreational study supplies littering the table.  Middle schoolers were lucky they didn’t have finals, at least not the same way high school students had them.  Dante hasn’t had time to do anything fun for weeks, but Cisco has still had plenty of time to study whatever it is that interests him this week. 

Dante takes a cursory glance at the textbooks on the table, because it’s summer vacation and he’ll be able to make fun of Cisco for this later. 

His brother is teaching himself introductory calculus. 

That night, Dante can’t sleep.  The air in his room is still and close.  He can see a thin stream of light coming from under the door, and he knows he’s not the only one awake. 

His parents have work in the morning, and they never stay up past ten on workdays.  It’s Cisco, studying into the wee hours for a class that he doesn’t have in a subject notorious for its difficulty.  Cisco is honing his talents still, practicing, perfecting, and Dante is lying under the covers. 

The thought is enough to propel him out of bed and over to the electric piano he got for Christmas.  He plugs in his headphones, places them over his ears, and sets to work.  Beethoven did this, he thought to himself almost giddily as he worked through his scales over and over again.  He practiced round the clock, played all night in order to be good enough. 

Dante hammers at the keys until his eyes can’t focus, then collapses into bed like a puppet with cut strings. 

* * *

When high school rolls around, Dante can’t help but be relieved that Cisco manages to adjust.  He’s still a small, long-haired fish in a very big pond, but he’s learned some lessons about keeping his head down.  They serve him well; sure, he gets odd looks here and there, but he doesn’t do anything that would embarrass Dante or himself. 

It’s surreal, but Cisco’s nerdy interests are actually valued in high school.  Dante watches in bemusement as his brother joins the chess club, the astronomy club, the robotics club, the computer club. 

In the blink of an eye, Cisco becomes the pint-sized king of the nerds.  He can write code, programmed a robot to fold his socks, and is the darling of the science teachers.  He may not have any actual friends, but he’s got half of Dante’s classmates eating out of his hand.  Nobody is better at science, especially physics, than Cisco.  He’s running a tutoring racket on the side, turning his lonely evenings into cold hard cash, and that’s better than Dante is doing.  Dante is – surviving.  He’s passing his classes with reasonable grades, but he isn’t achieving, isn’t excelling. 

Maybe it would be better if Cisco weren’t so infuriatingly gifted that Dante can’t help but compare.  He gets plenty of opportunities.  One afternoon, when Dante is working his way through a convoluted problem involving ramps and sliding boxes, Cisco sidles up to the table and says “You forgot to draw the normal vector perpendicular to the inclined plane.” 

Dante hits the roof.  It’s not reasonable, and he feels guilty later, but it’s been a long week and he has a test coming up and he doesn’t want to think about what will happen if his grades aren’t up to par. 

After that they don’t talk about school very much. 

When Dante first learns about Melinda Torres, he’s not even surprised.  Melinda is a freshman, one of Cisco’s hangers-on in his after-school tutoring sessions, and normally that would preclude even the possibility of a romantic interest on her part.  Most of Cisco’s students lap up his instruction at night, then turn around and badmouth him during the day.  But not Melinda.  She asks his brother questions about himself, shows interest in his hobbies.  Cisco’s even more inept at flirting than she is, but they’re both trying, in their haphazard way. 

She shows up at one of Cisco’s robotics competitions and it makes Dante feel ill.  How can this be so easy for him?  He’s a walking encyclopedia and he still has a pretty girl like Melinda eating out of the palm of his hand. 

Dante closes the curtain on their puppy love with a carefully-prepared lie and a carefully-placed kiss on the hand.  So he’s a junior and she’s a freshman – stranger things have happened.  Cisco doesn’t seem to notice the change in Melinda’s attentions, appearing for all the world to have decided that Melinda was only interested in him as a means of getting closer to his older brother.  Dante doesn’t disabuse him of the notion. 

She’s a nice girl, Melinda.  She never stops noticing Cisco, though, even when he grows his hair down to his shoulders and wears his humor like self-deprecating body armor.  Dante hardly faults her, not when he finds himself noticing his own friend Amanda’s smiles and the gold flecks in her eyes.  But that’s young love, isn’t it?  Always complicated, largely unrequited, and for the time being, good enough. 

And yet in spite of the schoolwork and the girlfriend, Dante still has time that needs to be filled.  He gets used to practicing alone, but at times he finds himself missing his middle school orchestra.  There’s no piano in the high school class, only strings, but Dante enjoyed the camaraderie and the field trips when he was younger and figures it won’t take him long to pick up a second instrument so he can play with them. 

Of course it’s not that easy.  The violin is an unmitigated disaster – every misplaced finger and scratchy string grates on Dante’s nerves like a taut wire until the mere sight of the instrument causes his heart to beat faster.  He had expected to pick the instrument up effortlessly, and the fact that he doesn’t terrifies him, so for the first time in his life he quits.  He quits, and feels the most incredible release of tension because he’d made a decision to do _less,_ not more, and it had worked out.  His parents are disappointed, but he redoubles his efforts on the piano and their protests soon cease. 

All in all, high school is a weird limbo and he can’t wait to give it up.  Dante applies to every two-year school with a music program that’s located within driving distance from their family home, and is able to smile as the acceptance letters roll in.  Two years at a community college, to save money, and then he’ll transfer to Julliard – that’s his plan, and he’s happy with it. 

Cisco applies for programs of his own.  At first Dante thinks they’re summer camps, but of course his brother isn’t going to stoop that low.  He’s accepted into MIT’s Early College program as one of its flagship students, and if Dante does a double take when he sees the blocky red-and-gray logo splashed across the front of a brochure, he recovers quickly. 

Their parents’ reactions are, of course, mixed.  They’re thrilled that Dante plans to pursue a musical education, but lament that he plans to get his associate’s degree before doing so.  Dante ignores their naysaying; his decision will save his family money and allow him to work while he’s in school.  Everyone wins. 

When Cisco runs into the living room to give them the good news about his MIT admission, and his accompanying scholarship, their response is equally hesitant.  Money is thankfully no object, but they worry that Cisco isn’t becoming well-rounded. 

“You should find some extracurricular activities to engage your body, not just your mind,” their mother points out to him one afternoon while Dante is in earshot. 

“I took martial arts lessons for four years, _madre,”_ Cisco sighs. 

“But then you quit!”

“I learned what I needed to know!” Cisco huffs.  “I wanted to focus on school.” 

“I know, _mijo,_ and I’m glad you did.  But math and science won’t help you get along with people.  Look at Dante – his music actually brings people together.” 

Dante retreats into the kitchen before he can hear Cisco’s reply.  He may be jealous of his brother’s talents, but he isn’t a kid anymore.  Dante’s music can bring people together, but Cisco’s gifts can help people in other ways. 

One day, his parents will realize that – and then _he’ll_ be the son they’re accusing of wasting his life. 

Dante can’t find pleasure in empty praise anymore, not when he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 


End file.
